Chapter 51 - The Husband I Buried

Now

I didn’t see him at first.

The room was larger than I expected. Dimmer. The lighting soft, indirect, designed to obscure edges rather than define them.

For a moment I thought it was a trick. That the room was empty, and Dr. Avery was about to give us a lecture on self-reflection and searching for something.

I entered after Dr. Avery, Keith following behind me.

I jumped as the door closed behind us with a thud. Then, nothing. It was silent.

I heard a sound from around the corner, coming from a small nook.

‘You shouldn’t be here.’

That voice, a familiar baritone, steady and low. It washed through the air, comforting in a way that nothing else was.

Dr. Avery turned up the lights, just enough for me to see a little clearer.

My pulse surged, heat flooding my chest so fast it stole my breath. For a split second, the walls, the people, the soft hum of conversation all blurred. There was only him.

I walked further into the room and stopped dead. Luis stood at the far side, clean-shaven, hair freshly cut, dressed in a crisp white shirt like he belonged here. Like this was where he’d always been meant to stand.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe that he’d look a little more haunted, like the man down the hall had been. More like someone who missed their old life. Something that told me I hadn’t made a huge mistake in coming here.

The sight of him made my body ache – an almost physical pain, sharp and intimate.

‘Luis?’ I breathed, but my voice sounded wrong. Too thin. Like it didn’t belong in the room. He turned when he heard me. Something flickered across his face, real and unguarded. It turned to relief. It lit up his eyes, softened his mouth, and for one dangerous moment I believed that everything I’d hoped could be true, was.

My heart slammed.

‘Luis, I searched for you.’

This time, it wasn’t a question. It was more certain.

‘Mackenzie, you came for me,’ he said. The sound of his voice, saying my name, shattered whatever restraint I had left. I crossed the room without thinking, my heels too loud against the floor, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.

I closed the distance between us. Slowly this time, scared that if I moved too fast, he might disappear. My hand lifted, hesitating just short of touching him before settling against his chest.

He was warm. Solid. Exactly the way I remembered him. But he didn’t respond straight away. Not the way I expected. Not the way he used to.

There was a slight pause, just long enough to notice, before his hand came up and covered mine. Carefully, like his reaction was contrived.

He stepped closer, closing the gap I hadn’t realized was still there, and pulled me into him. The scent of him – that scent – flooded my senses.

My face pressed into his chest, I laughed. It came out as a broken sound that turned into a sob before I could stop it. He was here. It was crazy, and yet somehow, it was true.

My fingers clenched in his shirt like if I let go, he might disappear again.

‘Luis,’ I whispered against him.

His hands moved slowly up my back.

‘You’re alive.’

He held me tighter.

‘I am,’ he said quietly.

His words settled.

For a moment, the world disappeared.

No lies. No questions. No four months of grief hollowing me out and rebuilding me back into a warped version of myself. Just us, exactly as we’d always been – intense enough to wonder if anyone else would understand.

When he finally pulled back, his hands framed my face, thumbs brushing the skin beneath my eyes like he was checking for tears.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked softly, but my lips were on his mouth. Hungry for him.

I had made mistakes. Stupid mistakes, but maybe this was my second chance.

He kissed me back, but only for a few seconds before he pulled away.

I let out a shaky breath, still smiling, still dizzy with him, running my fingers along the length of his arm. ‘I thought . . . I thought you were leaving clues,’ I said. ‘The break-in. The dog. The invitation. I thought you wanted me to find you. I saw you at the station . . .’

His expression didn’t change. Not immediately. But something shifted behind his eyes – something subtle, almost imperceptible. A calculation sliding into place.

‘You shouldn’t have come,’ he said. There was something new in his tone now. Something I’d heard before, when he woke up from one of his dreams, thinking he was still in battle.

He held on to me, but I pulled back. Hurt that he hadn’t wanted me to find him. Would he have let me keep searching forever? He looked at Dr. Avery, who nodded, and stepped out of the room. Keith hung back, giving us some privacy.

Luis lowered his voice. ‘I didn’t want you to come here,’ he said gently, as if that were somehow better.

‘I saw you stepping onto the train. You looked right by me,’ I said, gripping his arm now.

‘You weren’t supposed to see me. Anton saw you at Bodhi’s. He said you were struggling. I was worried, Kenzie. I wanted to make sure you were doing OK.’

Anton? The strange man in the café?

‘Who is Anton?’ I asked.

‘He works here. He recognized you from a photo I keep of you.’

‘The receipt,’ I said. ‘That wasn’t a receipt at all. Was it?’

‘No.’

‘What was on it?’

Luis looked away. ‘Anton tried to do a stupid thing.’

‘What?’

‘He thought it would be a good idea to tell you I was alive. I was relieved when he said you ran. It wasn’t his business to meddle in.’

‘You let me think you died,’ I said, my voice cracking. ‘I buried you. How was I supposed to be doing OK?’

‘I know,’ he said.

Not I’m sorry.

Not I had no choice.

Just I know.

I stepped back, really looking at him now. At the way he stood: grounded, composed. Not hunted. Not afraid. Not the man I’d imagined, who’d been trapped or coerced.

‘You’re safe,’ I said slowly.

‘Yes.’

‘You’re not here against your will.’

‘No.’

The room suddenly felt too small.

‘And you didn’t want me to find you,’ I said, the truth clicking into place with a quiet, devastating certainty.

His gaze held mine. ‘I didn’t think you would,’ he said.

Something twisted in my chest. A memory stirred – not a clear one, but a sensation. A tightening. A warning I’d ignored because it threatened everything I was.

‘You look . . . happy,’ I said, and hated that my voice shook.

He studied me for a long moment, like he was deciding how honest to be.

‘I’m where I need to be,’ he said finally.

That wasn’t an answer. And in that space – between what he said and what he didn’t – I felt it. The shift. The realization that whatever had brought him here hadn’t just happened to him.

It had been a choice. A plan. Calculated.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. There wasn’t an ounce of guilt.

He knew something.

And from the way he was looking at me, I could see it clearly now. It wasn’t about this place.

It was about me.

The thought slid into my mind, unwanted and electric, sending my pulse skidding.

He knows.